Awkward Identity

After finalizing his character, he logged off and first went to check the official website’s introduction to identity settings.

The game offered a multitude of identities, encompassing virtually every profession from ancient times.

While it was a martial arts game, it didn’t compel all players to become martial artists.

One could choose to be a merchant, but the initial identity was system-assigned by default.

Each initial identity came with its own life biography, all generated automatically by artificial intelligence.

Ye Qingyun perused the website’s introduction for a while.

He was already familiar with most of the information, and anything new would simply require him to experience it firsthand within the game.

“Public beta event?” Ye Qingyun noticed an event on the official website.

It was similar to most game events, offering numerous rewards, though these items were largely incapable of disrupting the game’s balance.

These particular rewards, however, were not what truly captured Ye Qingyun’s attention.

The Jianghu world was vast, with the Song Kingdom’s territory roughly equivalent to the size of modern-day China.

After all, this was a game simulating ancient reality, where all NPCs were controlled by artificial intelligence.

They could exhibit a wide range of reactions akin to real humans.

For instance, angering an NPC might lead them to curse or attack you; some might even kill you.

Conversely, currying favor with certain NPCs could yield unexpected rewards.

The death penalty in this game was severe.

Dying meant starting over, with all levels and progress reset.

Given it was a martial arts game, death was bound to be frequent.

To avoid constantly restarting, players needed to approach the game strategically.

In essence, one had to treat this game as another world, and themselves as a living, breathing person within it.

Players needed to strive to survive by any means, then utilize their wisdom to complete various quests and trials.

The quest system here offered no explicit guidance; players were entirely on their own.

Clever individuals, however, would undoubtedly find their efforts in this game yielding twice the results.

Moving on to the economic system, it was a grand design.

Currency was entirely generated within the game, with no direct interference from the officials.

Everything was specifically controlled by AI, though the officials did oversee the banks.

Any currency earned in the game could be exchanged for real cash at these banks.

Game currency was divided into copper coins, silver taels, and gold.

One hundred copper coins equaled one silver tael, which corresponded to one yuan in reality.

One hundred silver taels equaled one gold coin, equivalent to one hundred yuan in reality.

Of course, money in the game wasn’t easily earned.

The system wouldn’t simply hand out cash; only certain quests offered corresponding rewards.

As he read, Ye Qingyun began to feel a little weary.

There was simply too much information to absorb, though he had seen most of it during the closed beta, so he understood it at a glance.

After a moment of thought, he decided to shower and go to bed, eagerly anticipating the game’s public beta launch tomorrow.

In truth, his decision to resign from his current job and immerse himself in the game world had involved considerable internal struggle.

Ultimately, however, he chose a new life.

He felt that life was too short, and he simply wanted to be selfish for once.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he lacked the ability to support his family; he merely desired a different kind of life.

After showering, Ye Qingyun returned to his room.

Just then, his phone rang.

Upon seeing the caller ID, Ye Qingyun’s expression turned slightly helpless, but he answered the call nonetheless.

“Hello, what do you want?” Ye Qingyun asked.

His voice was neither cold nor warm, devoid of any enthusiasm.

–Hello, you big oaf! Here I am, calling you for a chat after so much trouble, and this is your attitude? Couldn’t you sound a little happier? You know, it’s your adorable little sister calling you!– a girl’s voice chirped from the phone.

It was, of course, Ye Qingyun’s younger sister, Ye Qingxue.

“Oh, my dear auntie,” Ye Qingyun asked listlessly, “you didn’t just call me for a chat, did you?”

That remark immediately displeased Ye Qingxue on the other end of the line.

–Hey! You, Ye Qingyun! This young lady wants to chat with you, and you’re not happy about it? Men like you are destined to be single!– Ye Qingxue retorted.

Hearing this, Ye Qingyun’s face instantly darkened.

“I’m giving you ten seconds,” Ye Qingyun said, his face stern. “If you don’t get to the point after ten seconds, then goodbye.”

The girl quickly softened upon hearing his words.

–Alright, alright, you win! I seriously doubt you’re a man. I feel like the heavens gave you the wrong gender; you’re definitely not a big brother, but a big sister. What kind of big brother doesn’t love his little sister?– Ye Qingxue grumbled.

However, Ye Qingyun had already begun his countdown.

“One, two, three, four….”

–Okay, okay, stop counting! Let’s get to the point. Have you created your game character? Where’s your birthplace? I’ll come find you after you log in tomorrow. Also, what’s your current name?– Ye Qingxue rattled off a string of questions.

“I’m sorry, no comment. If fate allows, we’ll meet again; if not, so be it.”

The thought of his current female character made Ye Qingyun reluctant to speak.

–Don’t be like that! I really do have something important to say. The system assigned me a terrible identity, and I called to complain about it!– Ye Qingxue said, clearly annoyed.

This, surprisingly, piqued Ye Qingyun’s interest.

“A terrible identity? What do you mean?” Ye Qingyun was confused.

His own identity wasn’t great, so why would his sister’s also be poor?

–Tell me, what identity?– Ye Qingxue asked.

After a moment of hesitation, Ye Qingxue revealed her identity.

–I have a very special identity: the second consciousness of a fallen princess. It means I don’t have a physical body; I have to attach myself to that fallen princess.– Ye Qingxue complained.

As soon as she spoke, Ye Qingyun froze, then seemed to guess something.

“No way? Your identity, could it be a courtesan from Sweetwater Lane in the Song Kingdom?” Ye Qingyun asked, drawing on common knowledge.

Ye Qingxue was equally stunned to hear her brother say this.

She couldn’t fathom how he had guessed her identity.

–How did you know?– Ye Qingxue asked, utterly bewildered.

Seeing her admit it, Ye Qingyun’s face instantly darkened.

He hadn’t expected his sister to share a game character with him, but he needed to confirm it.

“You don’t need to create a character?” Ye Qingyun pressed.

–No, the system said I don’t need to.– Ye Qingxue replied, shaking her head.

Ye Qingyun was left speechless.

What kind of situation was this?

He wondered if he and his sister were too similar, leading the system to make such an arrangement.

–Alright, alright, just tell me your identity information first!– Ye Qingxue urged.

Ye Qingyun, without a moment’s hesitation, shared his situation.

“My birthplace is the capital of the Song Kingdom, the same place as yours. As for my identity… well, I won’t say for now. You’ll find out when we meet in the game tomorrow. I guarantee it’ll be a surprise!” Ye Qingyun said with a mysterious smile.

–Oh? Still keeping secrets, are we? Fine, I’ll remember. You have to play with me tomorrow!– Ye Qingxue said, then hung up.

This left Ye Qingyun with a headache.

He felt certain that something interesting would happen tomorrow.

With that, Ye Qingyun showered and went to bed.

Ye Qingyun slept very comfortably that night.